The Apocalypse Blog
by Melanie Edmonds

It started off as such a normal day, as far as ‘normal’ applies here. And then it nosedived, without warning.

There were no signs of more shamblers in the area, so we moved the vehicles over to the chemistry building to load them up. With so many ‘helping’ hands, it took ages to get everything done, even though we’re not planning to take all of the vehicles with us. After a quick survey last night, it looks like we’ll have maybe a dozen heading out, give or take a few vacillating souls.

I went to check that we hadn’t missed any equipment and heard a shout from one of the back rooms. I called for the others as I ran back to see what it was, though once I saw what was going on, I wished I hadn’t.

 

Jersey had called out, but when I got there, his air was choked off. Ben was the cause and the Wolverine was batting feebly at his arm. I didn’t think: I ran over and tried to pull Ben off with words and hands.

It was like trying to move the arm of a statue. Ben scowled and shoved me off, and I wound up sprawled on the ground.

“Jersey’s dead anyway,” he said. When I asked what the hell he meant, he added, “She has an acid burn.”

I stared at him, trying to work out which part to process first. Jersey’s batting was fading, so I put the rest of it aside and told Ben to let go, let go. Some of the others were arriving, and I think it was that more than anything else that made him release the Wolverine. Jersey fell into a heap and gasped for air, trying to scrabble away.

“She’s been lying since we met her,” Ben said, spitting the words out like pips. He glanced at the doorway, where Conroy and Dale were among the onlookers. They were as stunned as the rest of us, like fish. “And probably for a while before that. About that, and about being burned.”

We all looked to Jersey for an answer, an argument; anything. It was there, written plainly on his face. Her face. Guilt, fear. She must have kept that secret for so many months, from everyone. Now the thin tissue of it was torn irreparably.

She glared at us, rubbing her throat and coughing, and then stumbled out of a side door. She wanted nothing more than to get away from all of us, and I didn’t blame her. No-one tried to stop her.

It was enough of a distraction that no-one asked Ben what he was doing choking the life out of the psuedo-boy. I don’t think any of them realised what he was doing before they got there.

The onlookers milled about uncertainly, angry murmurs fluttering between them. I caught sight of Terry, who has spent so much time with Jersey lately, looking uncertain about everything. I asked him to go after her, make sure she’s all right, make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. He asked me why I didn’t want to go, and I told him that I needed to talk to Ben.

He’s a good lad. He didn’t know what to think of his new friend any more, but he went anyway. I hope he managed to say the right things. I can’t imagine how scared she must be now; I haven’t seen her since she ran off.

 

I turned around and Ben had already gone. It took me a while to find him, and by then I was afraid of what I’d discover with him this time. He was on his own, luckily, and my fear relaxed into anger.

“You were going to kill her.” It wasn’t a question; we both knew the truth of that.

He frowned at me, folding his arms over his chest. “I told you – she’s dead anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“She’s been burned. That means she’ll get the Sickness and die.”

I didn’t know what to say to him. Words cluttered up in my throat behind a roadblock of shock. It wasn’t that she would get the Sickness: it was his abrupt attitude about it. As iff that justified everything and anything.

“Ben, that takes months. And she might not die! She could turn out like you.” I tried to make that sound like a good thing, but my heart wasn’t in it. “We might be able to find a way to stop it!”

“She’s dead, Faith. Face it.”

“No! And even if she was… even if we were sure, that doesn’t give you the right to just… kill her.” I looked at him, at the way he avoided my gaze but wasn’t apologetic at all, and suddenly he felt like a stranger.

“Why not? She’s dead and I’m hungry. What would you have me do?”

“You can’t just kill people! Is this what happened with Steve? Did you kill him before the Sickness could take him?”

He just glared at me. “He was dead, too.”

“But still alive when you got to him! Ben, you can’t do this! You just can’t!”

He stepped closer and looked down at me, pulled his lips back. “It’s survival, Faith. They’re not going to make it, so I might as well.”

I stared up at him, ice all over and shivering. It felt like someone else was having this conversation. “How many has there been?” My voice sounded small and far away. It took me a moment to figure out why my cheeks were wet.

He just looked at me for a long moment.

“No more,” I said. “Promise me there won’t be any more.”

“And if I do? Will you offer a vein every time I’m hungry?”

“If I have to.”

The next thing I knew, my back was against a wall and there was a fresh cut on my arm. I didn’t fight him. I felt my heart throbbing and the wall wasn’t enough to hold me up. I asked him to stop just before my knees buckled. He said my name, but it was too dark. I don’t remember hitting the floor.

 

That was a few hours ago. I just woke up, wrapped in blankets. He must have put me to bed. I don’t know where he is now. I don’t feel good. I can’t keep doing this; I know that now. I think he’ll kill me without meaning to. Add me to the list of those he’s sacrificed so that he can keep on being.

There’s a part of me that wants to believe in him, but it’s growing smaller all the time. The knowledge is seeping through me, slow as slush: I love a killer. Do I dare to think I can still change him? The more I know, the less I like it. But I still don’t know enough. It won’t be enough until it’s too much.

Bones to entrails, I ache. It’s cold tonight. Or maybe it’s just me, all the way through.

Tags: Ben, Jersey

I haven’t seen Ben today. In a way, I’m glad – I wouldn’t know what to say to him if I did see him.

Matt found me fumbling over breakfast and made me sit down. I was pale and shaky, more than I like to admit. The cuts on my arm ache, as if they want to remind me why I feel this way. My friend made me something to eat and waited while I put it away before he asked me what was going on.

I couldn’t fob him off any more. He had the look in his eye and the set to his jaw, the ones he always gets when he won’t take no for an answer. He took my hand, as if he might need to hold me down, and asked me what Ben had done.

I think it was the way he put it that got to me. I tried to form an answer, but it cluttered up behind a sudden wave of tears. He put an arm around me while I broke down, and he told me that I didn’t have to do this on my own. I’m not alone. I’ve offered those three words to others so often, but I had forgotten what they sounded like.

And he’s right. This isn’t my secret to keep. It’s too big for me, and it’s not harmless. I keep trying to make the right decision, but it’s not up to me. It never was.

 

So I told him. I unloaded what I knew and what I feared. My mind tripped over everything that has happened since Ben recovered from the Sickness, and my tongue tried to keep up. When I fell down, Matt filled in the gaps with his own suggestions.

All those who have gone missing, starting with the first Wolverine we met. Dennis entered through a broken window and was last seen running towards the room where Ben had been lying sick. He disappeared and then Ben was on his feet again. I think he scared himself so much when he fed off Dennis that he left to keep us safe, because right after that, he left.

And after he came back, there were more disappearances, like Iris’s Norman. What happened to him before the rain got to him? And was Caroline’s death really the accident he claims?

“Jones,” added a voice. We looked around to find Nugget watching us. I felt my innards contract, knotting up into a tiny ball as if trying to hide. I opened my mouth to deny that possibility, but the words wouldn’t come.

“You did say that he ate animals too,” Matt said.

I almost broke down all over again. I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse. Jones was the first one to go missing after Ben got back. But maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it wasn’t him at all. Maybe none of it was him.

“I’m so sorry, Nugget,” I said anyway. She climbed into Matt’s lap and leaned on him, looking sad. I think she has known that Jones wasn’t coming back for a while now, even though she kept asking for him.

Matt asked me what I was going to do, and I had no answer for him. I don’t know. I’m afraid to tell everyone, because I’m scared of what they’ll do to Ben. I’m scared of what he’ll do to them, too. I don’t think I’ve felt so helpless since we were in the city and buildings were falling on us.

 

I thought it would feel better after I told someone else. It didn’t.

I didn’t want to tell the rest of them, but once Matt knew, it was only a matter of time. I’ve lost count of how many times I went over it, and that was only to a few of the others. I wanted to curl up and pretend it wasn’t happening. I wanted to deny everything, tell them I made it up and laugh.

I didn’t. I did my best to look them in the eye. People I’ve come to know so well: Thorpe, Sally, Conroy, Dillon. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

They didn’t shout at me. Masterson wasn’t there, so that’s probably why. I could feel the disappointment rolling off them, though. I could feel them all shifting away from me, though no-one moved physically.

After I was done, they all–

Something’s happening. I have to go.